


It Wasn't Your Fault

by Chellacat



Category: I'm Not Here (2017)
Genre: Actor Sebastian Stan, Comfort, Divorce, F/M, Guilt, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Sebastian Stan fandom - Freeform, Smut, mentions of a childs death, someone needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellacat/pseuds/Chellacat
Summary: Bea's known him for years, watched him come and go, frequenting her bar, but she's never made the move she wanted too.  Now he sits there, ring missing and nursing his drink so he doesn't have to go home.  It's time for her to say something, anything, before she misses her chance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tacosntiddies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacosntiddies/gifts).



 

I scrubbed the bar down, idly swaying to the music  from the jukebox.  Captain and Tennille was playing, an old song, but a good one.  At the other end of the bar sat my longest running customer. He’s been in every night the last few weeks, too determined to drown whatever sorrow there was in him, away.  It wasn’t as though I didn’t see a that a lot, but there was something inherently heart wrenching about Steve Harrison.  

He was handsome, I’d have to have been blind not to see it, his blond hair, falling in his face, a little too long, but endearing none the less. But it was his eyes that had me offering gentle smiles and extra drinks.  His eyes were beautiful, his whole soul shone in those eyes.  It made me want to smooth away the frown lines and ask him where it hurt so I could kiss it better.  Sometimes though there just wasn’t a way to take that hurt away.

There was something different about him tonight.  He was still drinking, but he’d only knocked back two and he’s been here a few hours, he was nursing his drink.  I watched as he draines the last of the whisky and stares into the empty glass.  Long fingers, pushing it back forth between them, I had to shake off the thought of where I’d like those hands on me.

“Bea, I’m heading out early, that okay?”

Ella folded her apron and tucked it under the bar.

“Sure, that’s fine.  Come on, I’ll lock the door behind you, it’s too late to serve anyone anyway.”

“You want me to remind tall blond and handsome over there it’s last call?”

I shook my head.

“Nope, I got it, it’s just Steve, he’s harmless.”

Ella raised a brow.

“You sure, you’ve been staring over at him all night, anything you want to share?”

“It’s not like that, he’s just a guy.  Sad, a little lonely.  I think he just comes here cause he doesn’t want to sit alone at home.”

“He’s wearing a ring Bea, do not get mixed up in that shit.”

“I’m not stupid, I can take care of myself.  Besides, he’s not worn the ring since last Friday, you know she’s divorcing him, it’s all Lucy Hartley talks about every time I go to the store.”

Ella huffed, shaking her head, and gave me a quick hug before I walked her to the door, locking it behind her.  She was probably right.  Making a move on him would be a bad idea.  Married or not the man was not relationship material.  He was a functioning alcoholic, but he had some restraint as shown over the last few days.  The days since the ring had mysteriously disappeared.

I finished drying the glasses, placing everything back on the shelf before finally making my way down the bar to where he was sitting.

“Hey, you want another?”

Steve looks up, a little startled, frown on his face as he looks back at the empty glass.

“No.  I’m fine…”  he trails off, looking around, realising for the first time that they were the only ones there.

“Sorry, is it closing already?  I’ll get out of your hair.”

Impulsively I reached out a hand to him, touching his arm.

“You don’t have to go, there’s still another half hour till closing.  It’s been dead tonight, I just locked up a little early.”

He looked down at where my hand still rested on his arm, golden skin warm under my fingertips.  I pulled my hand back like I’d been burned.

“Sorry…  I um…   I could make you some coffee?”

Ugh, what was I thinking?  This had to be the clumsiest attempt in history at flirting!  I used to be better at this.

He gave me a small smile, his head tilting to one side.

“I’d like that, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble.  You’ve been quiet the last few days, everything alright?”

Not that he had been particularly chatty before, but he usually found someone to strike up a conversation with.   I moved to the coffee maker and began fixing a pot, grabbing a couple of mugs and setting them out for us.  He eyed the two mugs, but didn’t comment on them.

“I umm…  I just signed divorce papers on Friday.”

I didn’t look up at his words, but they did confirm what I had suspected.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nothing to be sorry for.  Just didn’t work out.  I was a bad husband.  A bad father.”

His voice breaks on the last words.  Everyone knew that story.  It was all the town had spoke about for weeks a few years ago.  His little boy had been hit by a car, died instantly by all accounts.

“It wasn’t your fault you know.”

He looks up, shocked that I would say anything about it.  Angry too from the clench of his jaw.

“You don’t know that, you weren’t there.”

“No, but I know you’d never deliberately let harm come to anyone.  You’re not a bad a guy Steve.”

“I was at the bar, I was meant to be watching him. I was too busy chatting to the bar tender to see him get near the door.”

His voice rose and he stood. Grabbing his jacket and heading to the door.

“Let me out Bea.  I’m goin’ home.”

“Steve..”

“No.  Just…   I come here to forget about it all.  I don’t come looking for someone to tell me I’m not the piece of shit I know I am.”

I came around the bar, and stood in front of the door.  My heart breaking for him a little more.

“Steve, stop.  You couldn’t have known what would happen…  People take their eyes off their kids all the time, a few seconds, that’s all it takes, but everyone does it.  It was an accident.  A horrible, tragic accident.  But it wasn’t your fault.”

I had reached out to him as spoke, one hand cupping his jaw, making him look me in the eye.  I had to try to get through to him.  It wasn’t right.

“She blames me.”  He said finally.  “Karen.  She said it’s my fault he’s dead.”

“She’s wrong. She’s angry and hurting, but she’s wrong.  She blames herself too, that’s why she’s lashing out at you.  She could have kept him with her, at the table, right?”

“But I was…”

“You can’t go back, blaming yourself doesn’t fix anything.  You have to move on.  You have to forgive yourself.”

I was playing a dangerous game, I knew it the moment his hand crept up to cover mine.

“Why are you doin this Bea?”

“Doing what?”

“You know what… this, being nice.”

“Maybe I just want to help.”

“Maybe there’s nothing that can help…”

“Maybe not…  But maybe I can make you forget better than drinking can, at least for a little while.”

I swallowed hard as his eyes sought mine, digging onto me, looking for an answer I wasn’t sure I had.

Before I could say anything else, his lips crashed into mine.  It was hard and quick, his tongue forcing its way between my lips as I gasped at the suddenness.  Then I remembered that I had started this, that it’s what I had wanted for longer than I’d cared to admit and kissed him back, running my hands over his broad chest, gripping at his shirt as his arms wrapped round me.  

His kisses were demanding, stealing the breath from my body, challenging me to show him that I meant it. He backed me into the door, hands reaching to pull my top over my head.  Cool air on my skin was quickly forgotten as his lips trailed a path down my neck, nuzzling into my tits, the stubble on his cheeks leaving marks.  

I tugged unhappily at his shirt and he pulled it over his head and I got my first proper look at him. He was beautiful and strong, muscled and tanned from the sun.  His quick fingers make short work as he unfastens my bra, discarding it, before he picks me up, carrying me back to the pool table and settling me on the edge.

He pauses for a moment, his hands on the waist of my jeans.  

“You sure you want this?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

“Neither am I.”

He pulls my jeans and panties off I one go as I lift my hips up and I draw him back between my legs, my clit throbbing as he grinds against me, his hands, palming my tits, thumbs flicking over the peaks and squeezing as I dig my nails into his arms, bracing myself against him.  The hard muscle under my hand flexes and I whimper as he rolls his hips.  His hand trails down, seeking out my core, his long fingers, rough at first, them softer as he moans, finding how wet I am for him.  

I can’t hold back the jerk of my hips or the cry as he pushes his fingers into me, my walls clenching at the sudden invasion, he whispers in my ear, tells me to relax, to let him make me feel good.  I draw his lips to mine, kissing him hungrily as he stretches me, his fingers stroking deep, seeking inside me until he finds the place that makes me sob into his mouth, begging for more.  I rut against his hand, whimpering my pleas and praises until the coil in my belly tightens suddenly, orgasm washing through me and my pussy tightening around him.  He calls me a good girl, still stroking me slowly, his lips tracing my ear and murmuring promises I know I’d never hold him too.  

I reach for his pants before I can change my mind and push them down, my hands finding him hard and hot, steel under velvet skin, he’s thick, the shaft throbbing at my touch.  It’s my turn now to make him groan and I guide him to me.  The first push of him through my folds and I’m nearly shaking from the feel of him, he’s quick to bring his hands up to grab my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the table, hands on my ass, holding most of my weight and I cling to him as he strokes into me, the feel of him filling me, every perfect inch driving deeper as I rock against him makes the coil of heat in my belly surge, wetness coating my thighs and him.  He’s being considerate and gentle, but I can feel his body shake as he controls himself. But that’s not what I want, I’m not Karen, I don’t need him to be something he’s not.

“Don’t…”  I say and he stills, head resting on my shoulder.  “Don’t hold back…”

The air turns hot as he lifts his eyes to mine, searching again and this time he sees the answer there. He takes me now, hard.  His cock forcing its way inside me as he pulls me flush against him.  The stretch and burn as he buries himself in me entirely, but I bite my lip hard, whimpering and arching my back.  It’s not pain, exactly, but it’s on the border, uncomfortable, so full, the head of his cock making my cervix sting and then he draws back and slams into me again, hips driving him over and over into my sex, pushing me down against the green felt of the table, almost savagely, using my body for him own comfort. 

 I feel powerful in that moment.  I know I’m giving him something he hasn’t had before. His mouth, is hot on my skin, nipping and marking me as he fucks me, my hands find his hair, fingers scraping into his scalp as he latches onto a nipple, drawing the peak into his mouth, teeth scraping and I shudder in his hold, my hips meeting his in the fast pace he’s found for us.  I can feel it building deep inside me, heat flaring from my core, each stroke of cock pushing my higher until all I can do is whisper his name brokenly as I begin to cum. His hips stutter as my pussy clamps down on him, and he pulls me up until I’m hanging on to his shoulders my legs wrapped round him, heels digging into his ass as I feel him tense, and he’s cumming, buried deep in me, swearing into my shoulder as I hold him closer.  Sweat damp skin sliding together as was pant, trying to catch out breath.  He slips out of me and I can feel him cum dripping out, coating my inner thighs.  It feels like a victory, though over what I wasn’t certain.  He places soft kisses into my neck and I hold tight to him, stroking his back lightly.  

“You okay Bea?”

I smile at him, the hint of concern, that he’s done something wrong, ringing in his voice.

“I’m good. We’re good.” I kiss him softly, letting him know through my actions that I’m happy. And I am happy.  

We dress quickly and I shut off the lights as we make out way to the door.  I feel his hand on my back as we step outside and I lean back against it, letting him know I like it there.

Shutters down, and doors locked, he walks me to my car in the empty parking lot.

“Bea…  Thank you, for tonight.”

I don’t know what I’d been expecting him to say.  But it caught me by surprise anyway.

“Get in the car handsome.”

“What?  No, I’m fine, I’ll walk home, it’s not far.”

I sigh, opening the door and getting in, leaning over to open the passenger door,

“Get in, you’re not going home to lie awake in the dark.”

“Bea?”

“Come home with me. You don’t have to be alone.”

“I don’t think you-“

“I know exactly what I’m doing.  I don’t expect anything, I’m not holding you to some standard you might not meet.  It’s just an offer.  You don’t have to be alone, and maybe I need that too.  Would it be so bad, coming to my bed with me? Having someone to wake up with?”

“You really mean it, don’t you?”

I started the engine and looked at him again.

When I drove out of the parking lot, he was in the passenger seat beside me, his hand in mine.  Maybe we’d only have this for a little while. But I’d take what I could get.  He needed me right now, needed someone.  I’d keep him for as long as I could.

 

 

 


	2. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look into the future.

Steve gets in the car, a choice made, he’s not sure why he did it.  He hadn’t intended to take her up on the offer.  Her apartment is small, but cosy.  He’s handed a pot and a bag of potatoes and told to get peeling when he follows her into the kitchen. 

 

* * *

 

 

Life with Bea is startlingly different than life with Karen.  Steve always knows where he stands.  He never has to guess what she wants or what she thinks, she’s blunt and honest. 

 

* * *

 

 

He has a bad episode about a month in, drinks till he can’t walk, gets arrested again.  She bails him out, brings him home and puts him to bed.  She acts like it never happened.  When he tries to apologise she just shrugs and tells him she knew what she was getting into.  Then she tells him if he thinks it’s something he ought to be apologising for, then maybe he has figure out if he’s saying it because he thinks he has to, or because he means it.  Steve goes home, to his empty house and his empty life and sits in his arm chair for most of the day, mulling over her words in his head. 

 

* * *

 

 

A week after she bails him out of jail, he turns up at the bar and ask for a coffee.  Bea just makes him one, not one comment from her, not even a look.  Steve sips his coffee and talks to her, for once in his life he spends more time listening than speaking. 

 

The weeks carry on, he goes to the bar, drinks coffee and talks with Bea.  Every night he walks her to her car and the choice comes again.  Get in or go home.  He gets in the car.

 

Choices, he feels like there is always another choice to make.  Bea won’t make choices for him, she won’t demand anything, she doesn’t want empty promises.  It’s oddly freeing.  Steve finds no expectation or disappointment in her gaze.  She likes his company, flirts with him till he finds himself striving to make her blush, even a little.  She laughs at his lines and flirts back twice as much, she’s effortlessly charming, he remembers what it was like to laugh again.

 

* * *

 

 

Three months into sleeping with Bea, he’s sold the house, invested the money in his own business and is set up in the back office in the bar. 

 

She never lays out what she wants from him and he’s too afraid to put a label on what they are so they drift along together quietly. 

 

He stays off the drink and goes back to AA meetings.  The counselor there recommends a grief counselor.  He makes an appointment and he keeps it.  Bea just nods when he tells her, gives him a hug and reminds him it’s his turn to take the trash out. 

 

That night in bed it feels different. It’s slow, soft, her hands touch him everywhere and her lips follow.  She takes him in her mouth and he cums hard as she hums her little happy sound around his cock.

He pins her beneath him, her body caged in his arms and returns the favour, determined to make her want as much he does.  She flies apart under his touch over and over until she moans his name, asking him to stop. 

He finds himself cradling her in his arms, kissing her softly, his hands soothing over silky skin till she stops shivering and then he takes her, filling her, making love to her.  He’s buried deep in her tight heat when the truth tumbles from his lips and onto hers. 

Hips rise and fall together, bodies moving in an ancient language and she holds him close, the heady litany of her response an echo of his own confession. 

After, she clings to him when he goes to move off her, holds him fast to her.  “Stay.”  Somehow that one simple word from her does more to realign his world than her words of love minutes before.  He settles his weigh back on her, forearms braced around her so he doesn’t crush her. “Stay,”  the word mouthed into his shoulder. 

For months he’d been convinced he needed her more than she needed him.  Now he sees the truth.  For whatever reason, she _needs_ him too.  He realises in that moment that she had been scared he would leave her, one way or another, it’s why she didn’t ask for promises, why there had been no expectations. The truth shakes him, her outward confidence and strength suddenly seen for what it was, a clever defence mechanism for a woman who didn’t know her own worth.  He makes a promise then, one to himself.  He’ll spend the rest of his life making sure she knows she’s worth everything. She pulled him out the gutter and helped him heal, without expectation.  “I’m right here.”  He tells her, kissing her lips softly, relishing the feel of her body arching under his in response. “I’m here.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve sometimes wonders how his life might have went had he chosen to go home that night to his empty house.  Instead he got in the car with Bea and thirty years later he’s sitting by a fireplace with his grandson in his lap.  The little boy looks a lot like the son he lost, but his eyes are all his grandmothers.  The phone rings and his daughter takes her son from him as he makes his way to the hall. It’s his mother, calling to wish him a happy birthday.  They exchange small talk for a few minutes and then she tells him, hesitantly about Karen’s death.  Part of him expects to feel some crushing blow, but it never comes, instead there is simply a lingering sadness and faded sense of loss.  

He hangs up the phone and wanders to the kitchen.  Bea has Mattie standing on a chair, helping make cup cakes.  His grand daughter with her cloud of curly hair like her mother and grandmother.  Bea, as always, knows when he’s unsettled and makes her way over, her arms wrapping around his waist silently as he hugs her.  “Stay.” He mumbles into her hair. “I’m here, I’m right here.”  She returns, the words they had exchanged frequently over the course of a life together, words that had come to mean so much more than a mere ‘I love you’ ever could.


	3. Sleepless Night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snap shot.

He lay on the couch, baby sleeping on his chest while they both snored softly. Maddie had been up all night crying, Steve had insisted on walking the floor with her so Bea could sleep. 

Bea leaned in the doorway, marveling at how far they had come. Steve’s blond hair was cut short now, enough that the natural curl in his hair was apparent. 

His hand lay protectively on Maddie’s tiny back, her own halo of blond curls matching her fathers.

When it was like this, so quiet and peaceful she felt the welling of love in her heart and bit back tears. She never thought she could love so fiercely before, but for them, for her husband and her daughter, she’d burn the world to the ground to keep them safe. 

Bea tiptoes across the room, grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa and carefully covers the sleeping pair. Leaning down she kisses the downy curls of her daughter before standing back up. A blue eye cracks open and Steve gives her a lazy grin.

“No kiss for me princess?”

Bea shakes her head and leans down, pressing her lips to his forehead.

“Always babe, go back to sleep.”

He grabs her hand, stopping her from leaving and kisses her fingertips. “Love you” The words low and full of sincerity. Bea feels the prick of tears again and curses her hormones.

“I’m here, I’ll be right here.” She curls up in the arm chair watches her little family, thankful for everything life had brung her.


End file.
